


See How

by ClaraxBarton



Series: Find Ourselves Alone [2]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Batman - Freeform, Creepy Bosses, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Multi, Superman - Freeform, art history nerdiness, wonder woman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 02:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: Meilan reluctantly attends her work's Halloween party.A gift for Maevemauvaise, who created an amazing piece of art with Meilan as Wonder Woman.





	See How

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maevemauvaise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevemauvaise/gifts).



A/N: For Maeve - I promised you this fic quite a while ago and I’m finally making good on it just in time for Halloween. You drew an AMAZING Meilan as Wonder Woman and I’m very excited to share this with you.

 

A/N2: Always thanks to Ro for editing and supporting me. You’re incredible and i’m so lucky to have you.

 

A/N3: A sequel to  _ Just So _ , but this should stand fairly well on it’s own, so if you haven’t read that fic you should be okay. But, I mean, you should also go read that fic. Please.

 

A/N4: Also, thank you Kangofu-CB. YOU are so generous and kind and amazing and I really love having your support and encouragement for all of the things.

 

A/N5:  _ Bathsheba at Her Bath _ is at the Louvre. We are NOT at the Louvre for this fic. Just. Let me have my dream. I love that painting.

 

Warnings: language

 

Pairings: 3x5xM, 1x2

 

_ See How _

 

As a general rule, Meilan didn’t care much for Halloween.

 

Her mother hadn’t liked the idea of Meilan going around knocking on doors and asking for candy from strangers, and especially hadn’t liked having to spend money on a costume for her to do it in. She hadn’t appreciated having to pass out candy to other children, either, and despite the fact that Meilan’s father  _ had _ liked staying home and answering the door to Trick or Treaters, Meilan’s mother had put an end to all attempts at celebrating Halloween when Meilan turned twelve by declaring that Meilan was too old to act like a child, and there was no need to waste any more money on all of those sugary sweets.

 

She hadn’t been very popular in middle school or high school - her only real friend had been Wufei, who was as much competition as bosom companion - and as a result, she hadn’t been invited to any of the Halloween parties at the homes of the popular students. 

 

It wasn’t until college that Meilan had even dressed up for the holiday again. She had been invited to a party at the home of one of the art history grad students, a TA for one of her classes who had made no efforts to be subtle in his flirtations with her, and she had decided to go, and had dragged Wufei along with her, despite his protestations. Neither of them had put much effort into their costumes - Meilan dressing in form-fitting black and adding a cat ear headband to her hair while Wufei hadn’t dressed up at all, but had instead allowed Meilan to spend an hour turning him into a zombie with her makeup. 

 

She had slept with the TA, and Wufei had spent the night alone, miserably pining as he watched Trowa Barton, his crush since the first day of classes, flirt and dance with everyone else at the party.

 

The parties hadn’t really improved, and in the years since college, Meilan usually begged off going to any. 

 

Of course, this year, it was impossible to get out of  _ all _ of the invitations she received.

 

She had been lucky, landing a job as an assistant curator last year, just one year after earning her MA in Art History, and the museum she worked for hosted an annual costume ball to celebrate Halloween. It was a fundraiser, of sorts, and all staff were expected to attend. 

 

Last year, she had been hired in November, just escaping the event. 

 

_ This _ year, her boss had made it very clear that he expected her to not only attend, but be dressed in full costume  _ and _ prepared to entertain the museum’s donors who would also be in attendance.

 

Meilan worked in the restoration department, cleaning and repairing art, putting the double major in chemistry that her mother had forced on her to good use, and as such, didn’t have much interaction with the museum's patrons. 

 

Neither did her coworkers, Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy.

 

Meilan was fairly certain that Heero was even worse at human interactions than she was - actually, she was convinced Heero was worse at them than even  _ Wufei _ \- but Duo was charismatic and  _ chatty _ in contrast to Heero’s typical surly silence. 

 

Duo was thrilled about the party - had been going on for  _ weeks _ about what he was going to wear, despite the fact that neither Heero nor Meilan offered him any encouragement. 

 

Meilan was pretty sure they were fucking - or at least that Heero  _ wanted _ to fuck Duo. Especially when they agreed to attend the costume ball as Achilles and Patroclus. 

 

She had snorted in amusement at the idea, and Duo had winked at her and suggested she attend with them and dress as Diana, the goddess of war and wisdom.

 

“No, thanks,” she had replied, still trying to figure out how to get out of it entirely.

 

“Diana’s good, though,” Heero had spoken up, drawing the attention of both Duo and Meilan. “Not the goddess - but Wonder Woman. Diana Prince.”

 

Duo had grinned broadly.

 

“Hell  _ yes,  _ that would be perfect for you, Meilan!” he agreed enthusiastically. “Do it. Oh, you have to.”

 

She had rolled her eyes at them, and gone off to get a refill on her coffee.

 

But the idea had stuck in her head. She had always liked Wonder Woman, had watched the old tv series on reruns and had, as a child, once dressed up as Wonder Woman before her mother put a stop to costumes. 

 

In the end, Meilan had given in to the inevitable and agreed to attend the party after telling her boss that she needed  _ two _ plus one tickets. He had arched an eyebrow at her, clearly looking for an explanation, but she had offered none, and instead simply looked at him until he gave her the extra ticket. 

 

Wufei had been less than thrilled about having to go - he had tried to beg off with work, claiming his new job was too time-consuming to take a night off - but Trowa had called him on that, and cajoled him into agreeing to dress up as Batman to his Superman. 

 

Meilan hadn’t told them about her own costume plans - shrugging whenever Trowa asked her what she was going as, and rolling her eyes as his suggestions became more outrageous and more pornographic.

 

She ended up spending too much money - more than one hundred dollars - but when she put on the costume in the privacy of her own apartment the night of the party, she didn’t regret it at all. The bodice fit surprisingly well, enhancing her modest cleavage and clinging to her narrow waist, while the skirt gave an added flare to her hips. Even the boots felt comfortable, and after securing the wristbands and adding the crown to her head, she had admired herself in the mirror. 

 

She looked  _ good _ , and she was vain enough to want to see the looks on Trowa and Wufei’s faces when they saw her at the museum that night. 

 

She had to wait, however. Quite a while. 

 

Trowa texted her at seven-thirty.

 

**Running late. Stuck at work. Wufei is bringing over my costume. We’ll meet you at the museum. Can’t wait to see what a hot naughty nurse you are.**

 

She rolled her eyes at his latest - and she hoped  _ last _ \- guess. She also filed it, as well some of his other suggestions, away for future use. Trowa had a birthday coming up in January, and she was fairly certain she could convince Wufei to dress up with her  _ if _ she got him tipsy first. She had been planning on the French maid thing - Trowa had offered a  _ lot _ of ideas about what kind of costume that should entail. But naughty nurses had a certain appeal. 

 

**I’ll leave your tickets at coat check. And I thought you wanted me to dress up as Sister Alice - your favorite teacher in high school. The one with the mustache?**

 

Ellipses appeared on her phone, and Meilan smirked at the length of time it took for them to resolve into a response.

 

**Sister Alice was the literal embodiment of unsexiness. Meilan, you know how much I love Halloween** **_and_ ** **sexy costumes. Please. Please tell me you aren’t dressing up as Sister Alice.**

 

**Please tell me you aren’t going as sexy Sister Alice either.**

 

**Meilan, please. I’m begging you.**

 

She laughed out loud at the texts, and simply sent back a winking emoji as her reply.

 

As she tried to figure out just  _ where _ to put her phone, keys and wallet in her form-fitting costume, some of her humor evaporated. She had counted on having access to the boy’s costumes - in particular, to Wufei’s utility belt.

 

_ Why couldn’t Wonder Woman have a utility belt? _

 

With an aggravated sigh, Meilan slipped her keys down her left boot and then took her ID, a credit card and the party tickets out of her wallet, putting them into her bra while leaving the rest of her wallet on the kitchen counter. 

 

She decided to just hold onto her phone, and after she pulled on her overcoat and buttoned it up, she left her apartment.

 

The trains were, predictably, running late. 

 

Which meant that by the time Meilan got to the museum,  _ she _ was late.

 

It was more than a little depressing that her boss took one look at her in the Wonder Woman costume and his annoyed scowl melted into appreciation. 

 

It got even worse, though, when he crossed the already crowded exhibit hall, his high-collared cape swishing behind him, and stopped beside her to smirk and reveal a set of fangs.

 

“You look lovely, Meilan. I’m so glad you were able to join us after all.” He delivered the words to her cleavage.

 

She cleared her throat, and his eyes rose to meet hers. He didn’t look at all embarrassed.

 

“The trains were running late, Dr. Quinze,” she muttered between gritted teeth. 

 

“Hm. Yes. They always are, aren’t they? And where are your two guests?” He made a show of looking around. “Don’t tell me they stood  _ you _ up.” He made a sweeping gesture. “Impossible.”

 

“They’re running late.”

 

“Even later than you? I do hope there’s still a party for them to attend by the time they arrive.”

 

And  _ she  _ hoped she still had a job by the time they arrived. 

 

She had disliked Quinze from the start, had suspected that she had gotten her job because he was attracted to her, and the year since her hire had only confirmed those suspicions. She managed to avoid him most of the time, putting headphones on while she worked, rarely, if ever, attended office functions, and politely and  _ firmly _ turned down every offer of coffee or lunch he had ever made. 

 

“Damn, are we the best-looking department or  _ what _ ?”

 

Meilan looked over to see Duo and Heero approaching, and as grateful as she was for the save, she had to roll her eyes.

 

She also couldn’t disagree with his statement. 

 

Heero and Duo looked  _ ridiculously _ good. They wore matching costumes of short, black leather skirts that barely reached their thighs. They were both bare-chested except for some complicated leather straps that looked almost like fetish wear, and long cloaks thrown back over their shoulders. Laced sandals and plumed helmets completed the look.

 

“Wow,” she had to say, and Duo and Heero exchanged smirks.

 

_ Yeah. They were definitely fucking _ . 

 

That look spoke volumes, and even if they had only started fucking that night, they had definitely been intimate with each other. 

 

Duo shrugged.

 

“My best friend is a costumer with the MET Opera. She borrowed some things for us.”

 

“Just don’t let her borrow anything from  _ us _ ,” Quinze muttered.

 

Duo grinned at him.

 

“So I  _ shouldn’t _ let her use that faience vessel as a shot glass?”

 

Quinze scowled, and it looked like he was trying to determine whether or not Duo was joking. Even Heero looked a little alarmed at the prospect.

 

“Dr. Maxwell,  _ please _ tell me you-”

 

Duo held up one hand.

 

“Joking. Seriously. Only joking. But also, Dr. Khushrenada wanted to speak with you? Some donor with OZ?”

 

Quinze’s eyes gleamed.

 

“Oh, really?” He smirked at them. “Excuse me, then. I have a certain Lady Une to charm. Make sure you mingle. Talk to the patrons. Get them to open up their checkbooks.”

 

And then he left.

 

Meilan couldn’t help but sigh in relief, and Heero gave her a sympathetic look. He had been on-hand for a few of Quinze’s more blatant attempts to ‘woo’ her.

 

“So,” Duo asked, leaning close, “where’s your mystery guy?”

 

“My what?”

 

Duo looked at Heero and made a gesture, inviting him to speak up. Heero rolled his eyes.

 

“You told Alex you already had a date when he asked you to come with him to this last week.”

 

Meilan shrugged.

 

“It seemed the nicest way to turn him down. He’s been working up the nerve to ask me out for six months now.”

 

“Longer,” Duo assured her with a snort.

 

Alex, who worked in the Medieval Wing, constantly fumbled through attempts to flirt with her, and Meilan was reminded entirely too much of Wufei, first trying to flirt with Trowa, to shut him down. 

 

Still, it was clear Duo and Heero didn’t care about Alex - they were just fishing for information about her private life. Or, at least, Duo was. Heero didn’t look particularly interested.

 

“So you  _ don’t _ have a date?” Duo pressed.

 

Meilan arched an eyebrow, and looked to first her left and then her right.

 

“I don’t appear to, no.”

 

Duo made a frustrated sound.

 

“Mei, please, you’re killing me. Are you single or not?”

 

She smirked at him, and then slanted a look at Heero.

 

“I don’t think your boyfriend has any interest in a threesome with me, Duo. Why don’t you try asking Zechs to join you two?”

 

Heero grimaced, and Duo choked on something between a cough and a laugh.

 

“Now, you boys behave. I’m going to go and  _ mingle _ .”

 

She made her escape and, after stopping by the thankfully open bar to grab a glass of red wine, planted herself on the fringe of a group of patrons and curators who were admiring a Rembrandt painting she had just finished restoring last month.

 

Zechs Merquise,  _ you can call me Dr. Zechs _ , he had assured Duo with a wink when the other man had first called him Dr. Merquise - Duo had responded with an eyeroll and  _ you can call me Dr. Maxwell _ , was in the middle of explaining to the group of well-dressed flappers and Elvises just how intricate and delicate the cleaning process had been.

 

Merquise, who assured everyone that he was brilliant, didn’t know all that much about restoration, even if he  _ did _ know every detail of Rembrandt’s sex life. Details that no one else needed or wanted to know. 

 

She barely refrained from interrupting him twice, but when he said that the restoration team had used  _ honey _ to remove adhesive stains, she snorted loudly.

 

And drew the attention of the entire crowd.

 

Merquise’s eyes landed on her and narrowed. 

 

An Elvis to her left leered at her, and two of the flappers made hums of approval.

 

She hoped it was for her interruption of Merquise’s idiocracy.

 

“You had something to add,  _ Miss _ Long?” Merquise stressed her lack of a doctorate. She was the only assistant curator in the restoration department that didn’t have a PhD, and she was reminded of that constantly.

 

“Yes, actually, Dr. Merquise. I was on the team that restorated this painting, as you might recall.” He had, after all, spent weeks standing over her shoulder and telling her how critical it was that she didn’t make a single mistake.

 

“Yes. One of our very junior restoration staff members,” Merquise said for the benefit of the group. “I believe Miss Long did some of the more basic cleaning?”

 

It was true that Heero had done the more complicated work of touching up the paint, but there was nothing  _ basic _ about what Meilan had done to the painting.

 

She glared at him, and Zechs arched an eyebrow.

 

“ _ Did _ you have something to add?”

 

“We didn’t use honey to remove the adhesive.”

 

“What did you use, dear?” one of the flappers asked her.

 

“Spit.”

 

They looked positively horrified, and Meilan had to smirk. 

 

She and Duo had had to dig up article after article of evidence to support  _ that _ technique before Quinze had agreed to it. 

 

Even now, as she looked at the painting, valued at several million dollars, she couldn’t help but feel immensely triumphant over the knowledge that her saliva covered the canvas. 

 

“Human saliva has a small amount of the digestive acids found in our stomach,” Meilan added, moving through the crowd until she stood at the front, beside the painting, supplanting Merquise. “Just enough to serve as a delicate stain remover. The adhesive, which was located here,” she gestured to the round, golden shoulder of Bathsheba, “not only discolored the paint underneath, but it attracted dirt and hair. The binding agent in the adhesive also acted as an accelerant for the oxidation of the pigments Rembrandt used and-”

 

“Miss Long, please, let us not  _ bore _ our patrons. Surely-”

 

“No, no,” one of the Elvises interrupted. “Let her finish. This is a hell of a lot more interesting than you talking about Rembrandt’s mistress having three nipples.”

 

Merquise flushed, and Meilan did her best not to look  _ too _ enthusiastic as she continued.

 

“So, because of that, it was imperative that we remove the adhesive. Dr. Maxwell and Dr. Yuy - they’re dressed as Achilles and Patroclus - and I conferred over the best approach for removing the adhesive. Dr. Maxwell and myself decided that saliva would be the best method, because it’s so gentle, and the pH levels wouldn’t further interrupt the oxidation process.”

 

“Now, when you say oxidation process, dear, what do you mean?” the same flapper asked.

 

Meilan then launched into an admittedly long and complicated explanation of the way certain paint pigments aged and interacted with oxygen and other elements. 

 

Amazingly, the patrons seemed interested in what she had to say, listening attentively, and even asking more questions. 

 

When she started to talk about  _ future _ restoration plans, though, Merquise held up his hand.

 

“Thank you, Miss Long. I fear we’ve monopolized your time entirely too much.  _ And _ I promised Mr. Van Berk an up-close look at our conquistador armor. Ladies, gentlemen, if we move this way.” Zechs gestured across the hall, and the crowd started to move in that direction.

 

He gave her a dark look as he followed them, and she rolled his eyes at his retreating back.

 

It wasn’t until she was alone and had taken another sip of her red wine that she realized she wasn’t actually alone.

 

Trowa and Wufei, at some point, had arrived and positioned themselves behind the patrons. 

 

Both men were smirking at her, and Meilan felt her cheeks grow warm.

 

“If I didn’t already think you were the sexiest woman alive, listening to you talk about licking a Rembrandt painting would win me over,” Trowa said.

 

Meilan rolled her eyes, and Wufei snorted a laugh.

 

“I did not  _ lick _ the painting, Trowa,” she muttered. 

 

A fact that he  _ knew _ , since she had told both of them every detail of the project, had been teased by both of them for being so excited about it, had lived through months of Trowa suggesting she practice her licking technqiue on the pair of them.  _ It’s for science, and for art _ he would say as he tugged off Wufei’s shirt and then his own. 

 

She walked closer to them, admiring both of their costumes. 

 

Wufei made an excellent Batman, his broad shoulders and compact, muscular frame filling out the black material perfectly. Her eyes were drawn to his groin, highlighted by the yellow utility belt, and she smirked.

 

He cleared his throat.

 

“My face is up  _ here _ ,” he said.

 

Meilan felt a moment of guilt. Hadn’t she been upset at Quinze doing that to her?

 

Then again, Meilan had been in a relationship with Wufei for four years. She surely had the right to ogle him?

 

“You don’t have to look at my face,” Trowa said helpfully. “Stare at my dick all you want.”

 

Meilan and Wufei traded smirks and eye rolls before she turned her attention to him. 

 

Trowa struck a pose, hands on his hips and shoulders back, and Meilan had to resist the urge to sucker punch him.

 

He was ridiculous, which he knew, and he was also gorgeous, which he also knew. 

 

“You look amazing,” Wufei said to her. “It’s not much of a costume, though, is it?”

 

She arched an eyebrow at him, and looked down at herself.

 

Wufei wasn’t exactly a prude, even though he could be painfully self-conscious, and he had never made the mistake of trying to tell Meilan how she should dress.

 

“You think the skirt is too short?” she challenged him.

 

Wufei’s eyes widened behind his mask.

 

“No.  _ No _ . It’s perfect.” He held up his hands defensively, clearly recognizing her tone. “I just meant that Diana - at least in the reboot - is an art historian.”

 

“ _ And _ she kicks ass,” Trowa added helpfully, smirking. “Wufei’s right. You didn’t dress up at all.”

 

Meilan rolled her eyes.

 

“You two are such nerds.”

 

“Your nerds,” Trowa added.

 

“Yes,” she agreed. “My nerds.”

 

She leaned towards Wufei and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

 

“Thank you.”

 

He looked equally pleased and taken aback by the public display of affection, while Trowa, impossibly and predictably, looked like his mind was on a fast-track to getting them all naked and in his bed.

 

“So you  _ do _ have a boyfriend!”

 

Duo and Heero had found them, and Meilan sighed.

 

She looked at her coworkers, who were both examining Wufei and Trowa with unconcealed interest.

 

“Duo,” he held out his hand to Wufei. “You must be Meilan’s boyfriend. It’s good to finally meet you.”

 

Wufei arched his eyebrow at her, making no move to shake Duo’s hand.

 

“Wufei, this is Dr. Duo Maxwell and Dr. Heero Yuy. Heero, Duo, this is Wufei Chang and Trowa Barton.”

 

She made no reference to her relationship with either man, and she could tell that her introduction had confused Duo.

 

“It’s good to meet you.” Trowa shook Duo’s still-extended hand, and then traded a nod with Heero. “Meilan’s told me all about the two of you and your outrageous sexual tension.”

 

_ That _ shut Duo up. His face turned red, and he opened and closed his mouth several times.

 

Heero tried to turn a laugh into a cough, and it earned him a glare from Duo and a smirk from Meilan.

 

“Meilan tells me that you went to Columbia for your PhD,” Wufei said to Heero.

 

The other man nodded.

 

“I did. I’ve been telling her she should apply.”

 

“We’ve been telling her the same thing,” Trowa said. “But she doesn’t think she would be accepted.”

 

Heero looked between the three of them intently, examining them the way Meilan had seen him look at a canvas before. 

 

“She would be,” Heero shrugged. “They would be foolish not to accept her. Besides, Columbia isn’t the only good program. Penn and Harvard have excellent programs. And NYU isn’t awful. She would do well in any of the top programs. And  _ she _ would be foolish not to at least try.”

 

The last was delivered with a pointed look.

 

Heero had, somewhat subconsciously and entirely accidentally, become her mentor in the year that she had worked for the museum. For the past five months, he had encouraged her to look at doctoral programs, insisting that she was too good at conversation to be stuck under the authority of old, self-obsessed white men because she didn’t have a PhD.

 

Meilan had struggled with the decision. She  _ liked _ her job at the museum, liked working with Duo and Heero and, when he forgot that he wanted to fuck her, Quinze. She also wasn’t convinced that she would get into a competitive and world-renown program like Columbia, and she didn’t have any interest in going to a program outside of New York. She didn’t want to leave Wufei and Trowa.

 

The realization that she didn’t want to move away from Wufei and Trowa had troubled her. 

 

She had always - before they became involved, and even after - been independent. She didn’t  _ want _ to need either of them, let alone both of them. She had wondered, over the years, if they would get tired of her sometimes peripheral involvement and simply settle down with each other. But they seemed to accept her as she was, never making it an issue that she spent nearly half of the week at her own apartment, or sometimes went entire weeks without seeing them. 

 

And yet,  _ she _ didn’t want to leave them. It felt ridiculous, and she was far too embarrassed to admit it to either of them.

 

“Well,” Trowa said, “we’ll keep nagging her about it if you do.”

 

Heero smirked and nodded in agreement.

 

Meilan glared at the pair of them.

 

“I’m standing  _ right _ here,” she muttered.

 

Trowa pretended to just realize she was at his side, and she glared at him.

 

Duo snorted a laugh, and Wufei rolled his eyes, his lips tugging slightly upwards at Trowa’s antics.

 

“We’re heading out,” Duo said, looking over his shoulder. “Quinze saw us schmooze some rich mermaids and, frankly, this wine is way too shitty to get drunk off of.”

 

Meilan had to agree with that. Wufei had turned out to be quite the wine snob, and years with him had rubbed off on her to the point that she had actually asked the bartender what  _ vintage _ he was serving. The man had just given her a blank look.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Trowa said to the departing men.

 

“You two, too,” Duo said, looking like he wanted to ask something, but then Heero tugged him away.

 

“Are we your dirty secret, or do you just like making people guess?” Trowa asked once they were alone.

 

Meilan shrugged.

 

“Maybe some of both,” she admitted.

 

Trowa smirked at that, but Wufei looked at her with something between sympathy and anxiety.

 

He had listened to too many tirades from Meilan over the years about her mother and her mother’s expectations to  _ not _ give her a look like that when their relationship was brought up, even casually.

 

“Show us the Monet you were talking about last week,” Wufei suggested.

 

It was a recent acquisition by the museum, and Duo had been itching to try and restore some of the colors that had faded from the canvas. Quinze was reluctant to give him the go-ahead, and Meilan had told Wufei and Trowa about the painting and the escalating conflict one night over dinner.

 

She showed them the painting, and she was grateful, not for the first time, that they both had backgrounds in art. Wufei, as a graphic artist, and Trowa, who was the assistant art director for a fashion magazine, had enough of a background in art history to at least know what they were looking at, and to appreciate just how important - and dangerous - conservation work was.

 

Of course, Quinze decided to insert himself into her explanation of what Duo wanted to do.

 

“Ludicrous, isn’t it?” he asked with a sneer as he came to stand beside Meilan. “The painting is still perfectly enjoyable as it is.”

 

Wufei regarded Meilan’s boss with a scowl of irritation. He had interrupted her mid-sentence, and while Meilan found that  _ annoying _ , she was used to it. Wufei, on the other hand, had always made a point of never interrupting her, even when they were fighting. Even when she interrupted him.

 

“You were saying?” He turned back to Meilan, ignoring Quinze completely.

 

“Well, Duo and I are still comparing the different lapis pigments available to us. He wants me to mix up something next week that might be as close to this blue as we can get.”

 

Wufei nodded.

 

“That sounds fascinating.” He turned to Quinze and arched an eyebrow at him.

 

Quinze’s cheeks were flushed, and he fumbled with what to say for a moment.

 

Wufei’s glare, coupled with his scowl, had been making people stumble over words for decades. Even as a child, Wufei had used the look to silence adults.

 

“You must be Meilan’s guests,” Quinze finally settled on.

 

“Yes. We were grateful for the extra tickets. The art director at  _ Vogue _ wanted me to give her all of the details on your event,” Trowa said smoothly.

 

“ _ Vogue? _ ” Quinze repeated.

 

Trowa nodded idly, as if working in the art department at the most well-known fashion magazine in the world was the least interesting thing about him.

 

Quinze looked at Meilan, clearly impressed that she was even in Trowa’s orbit. 

 

Meilan barely resisted rolling her eyes as Quinze looked at Wufei next, eyes wide and expectant.

 

Wufei snorted.

 

“I design art for a non-profit. Attending this wasn’t my choice.”

 

Quinze looked deflated, and Meilan swallowed her urge to laugh.

 

“Well. We are still happy to have you with us this evening.” Quinze refocused his attention on Meilan. “Mr. and Mrs. DeHaan had a  _ very _ long conversation with Dr. Khushrenada about you, Meilan.”

 

_ Shit _ . 

 

She wondered if that was a conversation motivated by Zechs complaining about her.

 

“Oh?” She tried to sound casual.

 

“Mm. Apparently, you impressed them with some lecture about Rembrandt?” Quinze made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “In any case, they are donating ten-thousand dollars to our department. Good work.”

 

Meilan almost choked on a sip of wine.

 

“ _ What _ ?”

 

Trowa smirked at her, and even Wufei looked amused at her amazement.

 

Quinze rolled his eyes at her.

 

“I said, good work. That’s exactly what I wanted out of you tonight.”

 

_ That _ wasn’t true, but Meilan certainly wasn’t going to call him on the lie.

 

“Thank you,” she managed to say.

 

“Please, extend my invitation to your colleagues at  _ Vogue _ to visit the museum at any time,” Quinze said to Trowa, holding out his hand.

 

Trowa shook it, smirking almost sardonically.

 

“Of course,” he said.

 

Quinze excused himself, not bothering to acknowledge Wufei again.

 

“Ten-thousand dollars?” Meilan muttered, and shook her head. “These people have too much money.”

 

“Probably. But I’d pay ten-thousand dollars to watch you lick a painting. Especially dressed like that,” Trowa said.

 

Meilan glared at him, and tried to elbow him in the stomach.

 

He caught her arm and leaned down.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered against her ear. “I had to promise Wufei all kinds of kinky things to get him to wear that costume without any underwear on.”

 

Meilan pulled away, and couldn’t help but glance at Wufei’s crotch.

 

“Really?” she asked.

 

Wufei flushed, and that confirmed Trowa’s words.

 

She laughed, and then tossed back the rest of her wine.

 

“Please, lead the way. I’ve got a few kinky ideas of my own.”

 

-o-

  
  
  


All for now.


End file.
